I Just Need You To Love Me
by River Tam
Summary: Owen Grady has withstood trials and tribulations of all varying types. He was sure that taking this job was the best decision of his life...until the day everything fell apart. And by that; she fell right onto his doorstep. [Daddy!Owen, T for cussing, updated as time permits]
1. Overcoming Me

**Afghanistan, 2007**

Owen Grady was no stranger to the oppressive heat of the desert, nor was he particularly fond of it. He had grown accustomed to it in the long months he spent there, almost thinking for a brief moment in time that he didn't mind it so much. That was a lie, of course, he minded being there, and he hated doing what they were doing. He was a SEAL, sent there to do a job and get it done. There was no arguing about it, just do it and get gone.

Except, his escape plan had a minor kink in it. Her name was Saiah; and she was probably the most beautiful woman he ever met. During this time, the uprising had just begun so women stopped wearing Hajibs as faithfully as before. He could see what appeared to be bright blue eyes; unfathomable pools of emotion that he wished he could learn to understand. There was also a moment of weakness and vulnerability as he met her the first time.

Saiah was a sweet woman, she often took him on tours of the countryside, much to the chagrin of her family. She was due to be married, this cohorting with a male was not acceptable; and a male of the Americans no less! She was looking to be executed by firing squad, they were sure of it! She would often times take him by the hand and show him around the flea markets, teaching him what everything was. Although he had a base knowledge of the language, it helped to have someone explain it to him. Saiah's ability to speak English was just as poor, but hey were soon to fix that.

It was later in the first month of his deployment when tragedy struck. He was with Saiah at the flea market where they often spent their days together when a suicide bomber had come into the midst of it. He barely caught a glimpse of the man traipsing through the throng of people. Startled gasps – mostly from US military – erupted into the crowd. Initially Owen considered shooting the man, but there were too many people running about to do anything about it. Instead, he closed his eyes tight, grabbed Saiah and ushered who he could from the area.

The bomb went off, and left a loud ringing in his ears. He could barely see from all the dust that now contaminated the area. As the rain of rubble began to fall, he searched for survivors, but saw very few. At least most of his unit escaped unscathed. But where was Saiah? "Saiah!" He called, looking around the area and observing what was in his immediate vision; "Saiah!" A cough prompted him to check under some rubble closer to the blast zone. He dug and clawed his way through, finding a child under the mess of rocks. He pulled him out, careful to assess the kid's wounds. Seeing he was safe to travel, he allowed the boy to run home. "Saiah!"

"Owen, man, you gotta get out of here. They'll come back." The stern warning was from his brother and while he really didn't want to take the advice and possibly leave Saiah behind, he knew his brother was right. "Come on. We'll head back to the camp."

"What about Saiah?" Owen questioned, hand tensing around the trigger guard on his rifle.

A pause, then a command-like voice came into his fragile psychology. " _What about Saiah_."

It was the most detached from a situation that Owen had ever heard from James. He couldn't help but stare at the rubble, mouth agape, as he tried to figure out where the woman had gone. Could he... _no,_ that wasn't possible, and he knew it. Saiah was just another girl he'd met, and it wouldn't last. It never did. Why did he think that a soldier could learn to love a native? Even Pocahontas died in the end of her story. He shook his head and turned around, following his brother. "She _was_ beautiful."

"I bet she was; your imaginary oasis girl. Saiah, huh? The one you been going on about in your sleep? Sounds like a real winner, that one." James continued. He moved ahead of Owen and sighed, opening the door of the jeep, a safe distance away from the site. "Look, man, you can't mingle with the locals. We were told that on the ride here, and they'll beat it into you if necessary. You're a pariah to them. They don't want you here, taking their brides and fucking their shit up. Whoever she is, let her go."

Owen thought about it for a brief moment before shaking his head forcefully and running towards the site again. "Someone has to save these people. Isn't that why we're here? To liberate them from tyranny? So why are we letting them die?"

His hands dug and clawed and chewed at the rubble, pulling pieces of rock and dirt and tossing them aside. As he found survivors, he assessed their wounds and would triage them until help arrived. He still hadn't found Saiah, even after an hour of digging. His brother told him to face the reality; which wasn't unreasonable in their profession. Biting down hard on his lip, he started to move more large rocks aside.

Finally, after another hour of digging, he saw an arm he recognized. The bracelets she was always adorned with. "Saiah!" He pulled the large rocks aside and noticed why she hadn't called for help. Leaning down to her chest, he listened for breathing. It was there, but it was minimal. She likely had cracked or broken ribs from the damage. Why hadn't he shielded her? "Saiah, it's okay, I'm going to get you out of here. You'll go home to your husband and be happy, okay? Saiah, come on. Talk to me." Owen pleaded, gently smacking her face. "Come on! Saiah! You're not allowed to die yet! I haven't even gotten to see the garden you wanted to show me!"

The woman's fingertips twitched. Anxious at the small sign of life, he dug her the rest of the way out and waited for help to arrive. He was afraid to move her due to where the rubble was resting on her ribs. Twenty minutes after excavating her from the mess, James and another male arrived with a stretcher and a backboard to transport her to the base. His first thought was fear; what if her family found out she was being treated by an American? "No, wait."

"If we wait, she dies. Make a decision, right now, Owen. Save her or let her die?"

Hadn't enough people died today? The split second decision broke his heart but it had to be done. Her family would treat her like an outcast now that she was associating with the enemy. "Treat her. I'll meet you back at camp once we dug out all the survivors."

* * *

That was what had dragged them together. He never left her side during the recovery, insisting on helping to take care of her. While she was recovering, she taught him Persian while he tried to teach her English. Teaching English was rather difficult considering the circumstances and the language barrier. That and he was no linguist, not by any means. He tried to teach it to her on a daily basis, but it required a translator.

Soon after her recovery was finished, he found her an apartment nearby the base since she couldn't return home. She had fraternized with a man from America, that was enough to have her exiled. But to spend time with the man was murder. He moved into the apartment to help take care of her, using the excuse of _learning_ to stay there. They had grown quite close, and she continued to teach him Persian. She was quite the excellent teacher. But the end of that month, he was already semi-fluent.

"Dooset daram," The woman spoke softly to him, while he was resting on the bed with a book. It was the down hours and he had made enough excuses not to go back to the barracks where he should have been. His lip curved into a grin before he even had to look at her. _My beloved_. "May I speak with you?"

"Of course, Saiah, what seems to be on your mind?" He noticed her looking away, something she rarely did. She always kept her eyes on him, fearful he would be like her betrothed. He wasn't abusive, in fact he was calm and shy, probably the least aggressive SEAL she had met in her time. "The way you're looking away makes me think you're going to tell me something really tragic. Are you being put on trial?" He already had a plan to seek refuge in the states, maybe that would help ease her mind.

"No, my beloved. I am not on trial." She looked down to her hands, dark brown locks cascading over her delicate milky chocolate skin. Opalescent azure eyes caught his gaze and he could tell she had been crying. Somehow, he had an idea what this was about. His heart sank. There was no way, was there? No, no, no, no! He'd be put on trial or killed! He didn't want to panic until she spoke. "Lotfan...Man haameleh hastam."

His world stopped and he could feel it growing heavy. His unit was going back stateside in the next few months, he could find her refuge if need be! "Saiah, come with me to the states, please. You shouldn't stay here, it's too dangerous for you."

"No, I cannot leave my family. They wish for me to stay, even if they have...exiled me from their home. Sheereen-am...stay here."

The cultural differences were even more problematic. Her family wouldn't want him staying; she was still betrothed. Though with this new development, probably not for a long time. She could seek help in the states; she would be protected there. A shake of her head showed him that was a bad suggestion. She gently rubbed her tummy, though she wasn't even showing yet.

"With or without her daddy, he'll have a lovely life. I will make sure of it."

* * *

The American embassy had refused her refuge under the guise that all Afghan had to stay in their home country due to the ongoing war. The passing months were strenuous on them. Owen had to leave and she would be going home to her family. Though she promised to keep contact, he didn't think it was true. She assured him she would send photographs of the child, keep him updated. He, in turn, promised to send money or clothes, anything she asked for. He refused to be a deadbeat father.

As promised, she kept her side of the bargain. She contacted him for the first several months, keeping him updated on her progression; though she never sent him images. She assured him all was well, and that her husband was welcoming of the new child. As it had turned out, her new husband was sterile, and it worked out in their favor. He couldn't have asked for a more promising situation.

At least, that was the story anyway. During her last trimester, just before delivering, he sent a care package. She had told him the baby was a boy, so the care package contained a stegosaurus stuffed animal, a blanket, and a few other items she would need, with a check for a couple hundred dollars. He was surprised to see the check returned with a note; _I am terribly sorry to tell you, but the child was stillborn. He did not make it, and the tragedy is that it was my fault. Please forgive me. I had wanted him to meet you one day. This will be my last letter to you. Goodbye, my love. - Saiah._

He broke down then and there, a hysterical sobbing mess on the floor of his barracks. He had tried so hard to protect his family, and even that didn't work. What _was_ he good for? He bit back the pain and stood to his feet, burning the letter with a lighter. If she was never going to respond to his letters, why keep the door open in the first place?

That was when he decided his career with the Navy was far from over. Those memories were gone, and a new opportunity presented itself. He would go join the ranks at Jurassic World, working closely with InGen to train raptors. The idea seemed so far fetched, but at this point, who cared? A fever dream was better than the reality of the situation. Shoving the whole thing to the back of his mind, he filled out his resume for the company; despite them headhunting him.

That was the last night he ever thought about Saiah. Or he had told himself it was, but that was probably a lie.

* * *

Updated as time permits; based on an RP. Please pardon my obvious lack of critical research this time. It's literally just a "setting the stage" chapter.


	2. Of the Hunt

The entire time Artemis was en route to Isla Nublar – which had to be flown out of Costa Rica – she couldn't shake that depressing feeling that washed over her. She loved her mother, she was all she ever had in life, aside from an abusive grandmother. She would have taken the negligent mother over the abusive grandmother any day of the week. Saiah had done her best to provide for Artemis, often purchasing items and saying they were for a friend's child. But Artemis knew.

When she entered school, she was told that she should stay home. Her growth was emotionally stunted and her development was far behind that of a normal eight year old. She always had problems communicating, especially to anyone else who didn't understand her. That was why she was glad when she was placed in the care of a woman who spoke her language. A language, mind you, that often got her hateful comments in society. Her worker had tried to coach her in basic English on the flight there, but Artemis had the attention span of a fly and couldn't concentrate well.

While it was true that she didn't have much, she did cling to what little she still had from her former life. And what little she had was truly that. She had with her a tiny dinosaur plushie that had been sent from – presumably – her father, but her mother always said it was a stranger who gifted it. She didn't find this story too difficult to believe since there were units moving in and out of her city, and most of the uniformed men were unbearably kind to her. They often gave her candy and toys, which was why Artemis always believed this toy came from a soldier.

She had very few things in her life, though, that this one toy was always significant to her. Ever since childhood when her mother handed her a box that she couldn't read, full of toys she didn't know what to do with, that this would likely be all she got in her lifetime. She knew they were toys for a boy, that much didn't take an expert to figure out. Especially because the neighborhood kids commented on it frequently. Artemis would always make a pitiful attempt to tell them off, but it always ended in her sitting on the porch steps crying.

The days that followed her departure were interesting and chaotic to say the least. Her grandmother packed up what little the child had, anxious to remove the flea from her home. And that was what her grandmother affectionately referred to her as; _Majudobe_ , which probably shouldn't have bothered her so much if it wasn't for the fact that she had never heard her name uttered off her grandmother's tongue. Her mother called her Little Miss, still showing some semblance of affection, despite her apprehension to care for her. Her grandmother, however, never gave her such respect or freedoms.

Artemis still remembered the week before she left. The soldiers in the unit helping her to find her father were careful and keen to teach her basic English sentences. Though there was one that her mother had taught her many years prior to her death, which was the one she was sure to remember when she landed on the helipad. The officer in charge of her was fluent in three languages, so she could translate for Artemis, which was rather helpful in hindsight.

The woman in question had removed Artemis shortly after she burned her hand on the stove trying to cook dinner for her mother. Saiah was sick, so Artemis wanted to care for her. She never realized the implications of what was happening, or that she was leaving in the coming days. She just wanted to be friendly to the people visiting her. The officer was kind and quiet, explaining to Artemis that it was okay, she could stop being an adult and start being a kid again. The same lady had also explained to Artemis that she was now a _ward of the state_ , because she had dual citizenship. She would later be taken to the states and put into foster care if her father wasn't located soon. That was the night that the officer explained to Artemis that her mother was not _sick_ , she was _dead._

That memory was still painfully fresh in her mind, weighing her down like a brick underwater. She wanted to forget the expressionless look on her mother's eyes. The officer never gave the details of her mother's death, but the child assumed it had to do with the numerous pill bottles laying around the bed. Saiah had never been one to take medicine, even going so far as to arguing with Artemis to take her cold medicine or to use an epi pen on the rare occasions she was exposed to fish. She had seen her mother not doing so for so long, it seemed natural. It was _unnatural_ to believe she had killed herself in such a brutal and primitive way.

Still, now she was on a helicopter, being briefed on what to say and what to do. The officer in charge of her – Sandara, as she requested to be called – was careful about fixing Artemis' clothes. She ushered the child not to speak unless spoken to because this country was not so welcoming of foreigners; especially of her bloodline. The child was primped and prepped that morning, a new wardrobe was purchased, her hair was done up nice – most likely for the media attention, if she had to hazard a guess – and her shoes were no longer the same dusty ones she wore when leaving.

The officer had tried in vain to take the dinosaur away from her, but she wouldn't allow it. Artemis was far too fond of the toy to let go of it. The fight was pretty epic, ending in the child actually going so far as to _bite_ the woman as she tried to pull it away. That was when she realized just how quickly this adventure could turn in the wrong hands. But her father likely got bit more than once in his time, especially in this particular profession. She nursed the bruise on her hand and sighed, waiting for the helicopter to land.

It would be a three hour trip; a short one, at best. Artemis hadn't slept on the entire eighteen hour flight back to the states, so it was no surprise to find her resting in the seat beside her. Her cheek was pressed against the glass, tanned complexion remarkably white, considering her location of origin. She was twitching softly, muttering in her sleep. The officer couldn't help but watch in fascination at this young thing that had seen more war than any soldier of the military and lived to tell of it at such a young age.

Normally the states wouldn't have been concerned if not for the fact that in Afghanistan, it was legal to kill your wife for having a child out of wedlock. Sandara was unsure how that applied to parents of children with grandchildren out of wedlock, but she didn't want the child to stay long enough to find out. She was absolutely sure, without any reasonable doubt, that this child would be in better hands as long as she was outside her native land. While studying her, she couldn't help but notice the soft whimpers that escaped the child's lips.

The whimpers stopped and the woman breathed a sigh of relief, but it was far too soon. Artemis woke up and shrieked almost loud enough to startle the pilot into a cliff-side. Had he not remembered the child in the back seat, he probably would have turned to see what the sound was. The officer turned to the child with a shocked expression, hearing her crying get louder and more intense as they got closer to the island. "Artemis...hey, sweetheart, what's wrong? Did you have another nightmare?" Though she tried in vain to coo her, it was obvious this woman had no children of her own. There was no physical contact, which was what Artemis needed.

"I dreamed about the night mama died." Artemis whimpered, her lower lip jutting out and quivering. Her expression was dark, worn and haggard. She looked like someone who hadn't slept in a week, and in reality, it was probably true. She was silent for a long time before she gulped down impossible tears and looked at the woman in the uniform. "What if he doesn't like me? I don't want to go to the states, I want to go home." Artemis always spoke softly, almost in whispers, despite her screaming and crying.

The officer took her hand and studied the burn blister on it, wondering why it was never dressed. "Artemis, if he doesn't like you, there's other avenues. We can find you a nice family in the states, somewhere you'll be loved and cared for. It won't be like your grandparents, you don't want to go back there, do you? Remember what that bath felt like? Wouldn't you like to take one of those every day?" The woman smiled and brushed a hand gently over the child's. "Did you know he tames dinosaurs? I'm sure your experiences will be nothing he can't handle."

The child wiped her eyes with the back of her palm, shaking her head idly. "He won't like me. And I can't stay here, they don't like people of my nationality here. You said it yourself, he was sent to kill us, not save us." While it was true that the officer _had_ let that slip in conversation, it was never her intention for the child to overhear it when she spoke to the grandparents. The unit _was_ on a dangerous mission, their initial orders to kill the insurgents. Somehow Saiah had escaped the onslaught, along with her parents. Though Sandara had an idea how. "What if he just wants to kill me?"

"I've heard nothing but good things about this man, Artemis. I think he can handle you just fine. He may not be daddy material, but he has raised some dinosaurs from infancy. So that's pretty cool, isn't it?" The woman sighed and notice the island starting to approach her view. She turned to Artemis and fluffed up her hair and fixed her clothes so they looked neat; not like the rags she came from. She still wanted to take that stupid animal away, but the child refused to let go of it, keeping the leash firmly wrapped around her wrist. The only way she was getting it was to cut the leash, which was frankly, too much work. "Now, remember what we talked about, okay? Don't speak unless spoken to."

Artemis nodded as the helicopter landed on the pad. There were so many people on the pad, it reminded her of the flea markets back home. They were all dressed so nicely, she wasn't used to seeing people without saris. She looked over at the woman in charge of her, gripping her hand rather tightly. Artemis was never fond of large crowds; not after being lost in one when she was little. She didn't speak, as ordered, and waited for the officer to make a move. When the target was in sight, she started to navigate through the throng of people.

The woman stopped after most of the people had left, looking to Owen with a soft smile. Artemis kept half her body hidden behind her leg, trying to keep from any kind of trouble. She had a thumb plucked in her mouth and a dinosaur under that arm, clutched tightly in her elbow. She was holding the officer's hand tight enough for little tears to escape her eyes from the pain of the blister, but she didn't speak, as she was told to do.

"Sweetheart," The officer let go of her hand and knelt down to her level. She noticed Owen doing the same and smiled to the child. "This is your daddy." She spoke in the child's native language.

Artemis offered her hand with the blister, preferring to suck her thumb on her right hand, obviously. She gave her best practiced smile, though it seemed forced, and pulled her thumb from her mouth. "My name is Artemis Yves Grady." And it was probably the _only_ sentence she knew how to speak in English. She moved back behind the woman's leg and waited for something else to happen, but it all seemed so strange to her.

"If you don't mind going to a private location, Mr. Grady, we can discuss the paperwork needed and what is expected of you while we're here. Obviously we're not expecting you to say yes to taking care of the child, but we will give you a week – a month at most – to get to know each other before a decision is made. A translator will be with her at all times until she learns English. Now, that said, she has very few things with her, so she shouldn't be too hard to transport. She's allergic to fish, so keep her away from them at all costs, and she speaks little-to-no English. And...I need to get her medical attention as soon as possible because that blister on her hand looks infected...I meant to do it sooner, but she wouldn't let me see it."


End file.
